


wanna go for a ride, ranboo?

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, BAMF TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Blood, Gen, Guns, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Just the referenced part really.. it doesnt actually happen but. its Mentioned, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, TW/CW Tags:, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Violence, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, that deserves to be a more populated tag, yeah honestly im not sure where this one came from
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29191500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Hey guys!”Ranboo is rather suddenly standing beside Tommy, a blowtorch lit in one hand, a missing tile from the roof in the other. He drops the metal with a clang but lets the blowtorch keep blazing, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Am I interrupting something?”//TommyInnit and his parter-in-crime, Ranboo, with the help of their friend Tubbo, attempt to find a balance between their highschool, home, and career-as-hitmen lives.Or; Tommy and Ranboo have an unhealthy rivalry with Karl Jacobs and his team, El Rapids.Or; Techno, Wilbur, and Phil haven't looked much into Tommy's after-school job. Maybe they should start.
Relationships: Karl Jacobs & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit
Comments: 72
Kudos: 533
Collections: Anonymous





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> SMACK CAM!!! (cut to this fic concept and my urgent school assignments wrestling on the ground)
> 
> this idea... i don't know where the hell it came from, but i like it. i just think its neat. i havent written anything like this in a long, LONG time, if ever, so it'll likely be pretty fuckin' stupid, but honestly, what of my writing ISN'T like that. i can't ever take this seriously DMSJKFDHJKD
> 
> in this prologue, tommy deal with his newly assigned partner, ranboo. or maybe it's the other way around.
> 
> tw/cws // mentions of blood, violence, guns,, it's a hitmen au what do u want from me (/j)

Feet thump on the metal rooftop of the warehouse, far above everybody’s heads. Tommy, knees to the ground and hands behind his head, grins behind his half-and-half gas mask. The man in front of him, the one with one hand resting casually on the pistol attached to his hip, the other shoved in his pocket, wrinkles his nose up a bit and mumbles something to the men behind him. French, Tommy thinks. He wouldn’t know, really, but Techno always says that people speaking anything but English are “speakin’ French to me”, so Tommy’s learned to assume.

The lapdogs to the leader’s left and right sprint off in opposite directions. One goes to the shut doors of the warehouse, testing the lock a few times before cocking his gun. The other jogs up the metal stairs to the platforms on the next floor, watching the roof with rapt interest. They both look competent, Tommy thinks, if a little bit too loyal.

For a moment, there’s tense, hushed silence, before-

“Hey guys!”

Ranboo is rather suddenly standing beside Tommy, a blowtorch lit in one hand, a missing tile from the roof in the other. He drops the metal with a clang but lets the blowtorch keep blazing, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Am I interrupting something?”

The leader that Tommy still does remember the name of barks something out before pulling his gun from its holster. Ranboo tenses up and pulls some kind of fucking magic move to disappear behind the crates- Look, Tommy doesn’t know what the fuck that guy does, all right? All he knows is that Ranboo is his partner because he looks like he can disappear and reappear at will, apparently he’s an acrobat or some shit. Again, Tommy doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care enough to find out just yet.

Tommy jumps to his feet and lashes out a fist. It doesn’t make contact, of course, his punches never do, but that’s never his intention. From his sleeve comes a basic metal blade, just a piece he picked up off the floor. It does the job, though, as his next swing lets the jagged edge slice across the man’s knuckles. To his dismay, the man does not let go of his weapon- If anything, it seems like his grip has tightened. The man starts to yell something, pistol clicking, but Tommy doesn’t understand French. Oh, and Ranboo comes up behind the guy and wraps his arms around his neck. There’s a snap, and _whoops,_ the gun is suddenly being let go with ease!

Tommy scrunches up his face and whirls around to face the other men, only to find them on the ground, too, equally eliminated. “What the fuck, man?” He snaps, turning back on his heel to face Ranboo. The lanky teen looks nervous, holding up his hands in the universal sign of _please back off, I’m just a little guy, c’maaaaaaan, I’m just a little guy and it’s also my birthday._

“L-Look, I just-”

“I didn’t even get to fuckin’- Man, I just wanted to stab someone! Anyone!” Tommy cuts in. Ranboo startles a bit. “You- huh?”

Tommy, scowling, drops back onto the cold concrete floors and begins to search the leader’s jacket pockets. “I came out here to get some _action,_ big man, finals week has been kicking my ass and I wanted to let out my anger in what my therapist calls an ‘unhealthy coping mechanism’, whatever the fuck that is, and then your skinny ass comes along and takes it all before I’m even getting started! Why’d they ask me to go with you if you could do all this by yourself, huh?”

“ _...Ineededadistraction._ ”

“What? Speak up.”

“I needed a distraction, okay? You’re loud, and you tend to annoy the targets, and you get yourself into a lot of hostage situations, so I figured you’d be a great person for the job! I asked them to partner us together and they agreed with my reasons!”

Tommy, with his hand shoved down into a hidden pocket towards the back of the jacket, slowly lifted his head to give Ranboo the nastiest glare he could muster. “You’re lucky I have my hand in some dead guy’s jacket, Ranboob, or else you’d be fuckin’ dead where you stand.”

Ranboo tilts his head again, voice light. “They wouldn’t want you to do that.” Tommy now realizes that that’s Ranboo’s way of showing a smile; The boy is wearing both a mask and sunglasses. There’s no way to see his face.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Tommy mutters, feeling the traitorous bond you can only get from taking down a minor crime lord with a complete stranger start to form. “Hey, look! Mans had his keys in his pocket! We can steal his fuckin’ helicopter!” He jumps to his feet, swinging the key ring on his pointer finger, shoving his other hand into his own jacket pocket. The blade disappears into its depths. “Wanna go for a ride, Ranboo?”


	2. chapter one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note: I Am Not British. i am violently, violently american,, but i am trying my best to write the dialogue as realistically as possible. and you all know how tommy talks. like. he does the thing where he drops the hs or says me instead of my For The Bit. i want to capture The Bit. please do not skin me like a rabbit thanks <3
> 
> tw/cws// blood, cuts, mentions of violence and death
> 
> the tags have new tws/cws in them!! please check them to be sure, not all of it has been mentioned yet but there are plans for it

_**4 Dead, 1 Injured Found in Warehouse on Westwood St.** _

_**Multiple Homicide in Westwood Warehouse** _

_**Westwood Warehouse Surviour In Critical Condition** _

_**Westwood Warehouse Murders: What We Know** _

Tubbo blew out an exasperated puff of breath at the articles that had come up during his seemingly endless scrolling. He really did _not_ want to be seeing news headlines over a bunch of murders this early in the morning, but he didn’t have much else to do at the moment, not what with Tommy being late to their break meeting. Like, come _on,_ Tubbo had gotten so bored that he had resorted to scrolling through Google-suggested _news articles,_ what the hell was taking Tommy so long?

Boredom won out over mild discomfort, in the end. Tubbo swiped all the way back up to the top of his screen and tapped on the first article from before, blinking blearily at the white layout the website had. Fucks sake.

_**4 Dead, 1 Injured Found in Warehouse on Westwood St.** _

_This morning, 5 bodies had been found in an out-of-commission warehouse on Westwood street by police en route to the station on the next street over. Four of the bodies were already dead, but the fifth was still alive and promptly brought to the hospital. The man is in critical condition and not expected to make it, but the hospital is attempting to keep him alive to be questioned as to the events that transpired last night._

_The following statement was given by Officer Irene regarding the situation:_

_“We don’t know much about whatever went down last night. So far, our team has only guesses as to who the victims were and how they died. Judging by the scene left behind and the… items found on all of the men, we assume that they were involved in drug rings and that a shootout took place, but only one of the men had lost blood and none of them had visible gunshot wounds. [...] [The man who bled] had cuts across his knuckles. They looked like he just scrapped his hands against some metal, in all honesty, but given the scene, we can’t be too sure on that.”_

_Officer Irene was then_

The metal bench Tubbo is sitting on rattles with the force of someone sitting down next to him. Well- Sitting down is a stretch. It’s more like someone threw themselves onto the seat.

“Tubbo, big man, how’s it hangin’!” Tommy chirped. He slid down the seat, leaning heavily onto Tubbo’s side once he deemed himself close enough to not fall off. Tubbo groaned and shut his phone off, placing it face-down on the table.

“Tommy, get off me,” He said, drawing out the final _e_. Tommy, to his great displeasure, just laughed at him, showing no hints of moving any time soon. In retaliation, Tubbo jabbed his elbow into Tommy’s side, finding his mark on Tommy’s ribcage. To his surprise, Tommy winced, hand drifting down to hold his side, a slight grimace on his face.

At his confused look, Tommy forcibly dropped his hands to his lap and gave Tubbo a wide smile. “Don’t worry about it, big man.”

“Oh, nuh-uh, I’m already worrying about it. What’s up?”

“It’s _nothing,_ Tubbo, really! I’m fine!”

“ _Tommy…”_

Tommy threw back his head and groaned. “Fine, fine… _Itrippedgettingoutthecar._ ”

Tubbo gave him a disbelieving look. “You tripped getting out the car?”

Flushed, Tommy snapped, “For your information, _yes,_ I did! Wilbur ‘n Techno were being absolute _pricks,_ I tried to get out too fast but my bag strap got caught on the door! I scrapped up me 'ands and everything, look at this shit!” He flashed his palms at Tubbo. True to his word, there were cuts all across his palms, not bleeding but bordering on the edge. There was a nasty deep one right in the center of his right hand, one that brought Tubbo stupidly high amounts of worry, one that definitely did _not_ look like something the shitty highschool parking lot could bring about, but… Tubbo wouldn’t push. He didn’t believe Tommy, not by any stretch of the word, but he trusted his best friend and knew that Tommy would tell him eventually. He always did.

“Okay, Tommy,” He replied breezily. Using his calf, he dragged his school bag closer to his reach, pulling out a pack of crackers and tearing open the wrapper. Tommy perked up a tiny bit, immediately snatching up one of the crackers and twisting the top of it to lick the peanut butter off.

“Dude…”

“Mm?” Tommy hummed, tongue still stuck halfway out of his mouth, “What?”

“You’re nasty.”

“You’re just uncultured,” Tommy retorted, crunching down on the now peanut butter-less crackers, “You’re afraid of what you understand.”

“Oh, I understand just fine- I understand that you’re a heathen.”

Tommy made a face at him in retaliation, reaching for another cracker. Tubbo swatted his hand away and pulled the pack closer to himself. “No, no, gross boys don’t get to share my peanut butter crackers. Get your own, fuckass.”

“Combining swears, are we?” Tommy asked, covering his mouth halfway through to yawn, “Are the normal ones just not good enough for you?”

Tubbo hummed noncommittally, eyes narrowed at his best friend. Why the hell would he be tired this early in the day? It was only 10 am… And Tommy was a morning person, so he couldn’t use that excuse. His friend would wake up at the asscrack of dawn no matter how late he had fallen asleep, with the only exception to that rule being when he was sick… Maybe that was the case. This had been happening for weeks now- Tubbo would even go so far as to say a couple of months- but he really did trust his friend. If something was super wrong, Tommy would’ve told him by now. Probably. Maybe. Unless he was terminally ill or something.

...Hm.

“Are you dying?” Tubbo blurted out before he could think about it. Tommy, startled, dropped his cracker that he had stolen under the radar onto the table, sputtering wildly.

“Am I- Tubbo, what are you on about?”

“I, uh- Well, I dunno, man! You’ve just been weird this past while! I wanna know what’s up with you!”

Tommy didn’t immediately bite something back like Tubbo was expecting him to. Instead, he was critically examining him, lips pursed, nose scrunched up. He looked like he was trying to judge Tubbo, see if he was worthy of bestowing whatever Earth-shattering information he was hiding onto him.

“...I’m not dying, no,” Tommy replied after a while. Tubbo tried not to feel too disappointed by the lack of information. He didn’t get much of a chance to feel it, thankfully, as the intercoms crackled to life, a stock sound of a ringing bell being played through them, signaling the end of their break period.

He and Tommy shared their next class, didn’t they? Maybe he could grill his friend for extra information then.

//

Tubbo frowned up at the whiteboard, pencil tapping out a silent rhythm on his thigh. His head was resting in his other hand, trying desperately to keep him upright and awake. God, this was boring.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tommy shift again, the boy running his fingers over the little cuts on his palm, carefully circling around the laceration in the middle. A few of them had started bleeding again, as evidenced by the blood on Tommy’s thumb and his pointer finger’s nail, but it didn’t seem to be deterring him a bit.

Suddenly invigorated to stay awake, Tubbo shimmied a corner of his paper off, wincing when it tore just a bit too loudly towards the end. Luckily for him, it wasn’t quite loud enough for their teacher to hear. Score.

He paused with his pencil just above the paper. Was he _really_ going to be passing his friend notes in the middle of class? In this day and age?

...Yeah. Yeah, he was.

_tommy give me atenshion_

Satisfied as he could be in the tight time span he had available, he picked up the note, kicked Tommy in the shin, and placed the note on his friend’s desk, pointedly keeping his eyes on the teacher, even when Tommy began to kick him back to try and get him to look.

After a moment, he heard Tommy huff, pick up his pencil, and begin scratching something back out. Said something was then placed on back Tubbo’s desk, much to his delight, and displeasure. Tommy had written with his bleeding hand and gotten blood on his note. Gross.

_tommy give me atenshion_

**we r in class stfu. i kicked u & u didnt respond. what do u want**

Tubbo paused to contemplate his answer, watching through unfocused vision as the teacher jumped to another math problem he still didn’t really understand. Yeah, no, no way he was gonna be able to pay attention to whatever bullshit that was.

_tommy give me atenshion_

**we r in class stfu. i kicked u & u didnt respond. what do u want**

_why is ur hand bleeding but honestly this time challenge winner gets me not bugging him_

He could almost feel the heat from Tommy’s glare when he passed the note back. He frowned when it was crumpled up in Tommy’s hand upon being read, but that feeling dissipated when Tommy tore off a new, slightly bigger piece of paper and began to scribble away on it. After what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Tubbo was handed the piece.

**okay fucker, heres what happened. i am secretly a hitman in a criminal organisation killing people for money. my primary targets from my Boss are drug lords and my primary jobs from my clients are shit like ex lovers and family. its super fucked up but it pays really well and its something to do that noone else i know does, so i keep doing it. those guys you saw in the news? me and my new partner did that. i cut my hand slicing that guys knuckles open.**

Tubbo deflated and turned to give Tommy a sad, disappointed look. Tommy leveled him back with a wholly unimpressed stare. When he was sure Tubbo had reread the entire thing and was satisfied with having it memorized, Tommy made grabby hands for it. Tubbo complied.

 _Gonna burn it,_ Tommy mouthed, showing Tubbo a brief glimpse of the lighter in his pocket before shoving the note in there with it. Tubbo huffed and spun around in his seat to face back at the board, head swirling with frustrated thoughts about what the actual truth may be and how he could extract it from Tommy. This was war, now, you didn’t just show someone such a blatantly obvious lie without wanting to provoke them through it. Tubbo would get him before too long, just you wait...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's commented so far, it means a lot! even though i haven't responded to anyone yet, i have read (and reread) each and every one of them!! ly /p <3


	3. chapter two part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i split this chapter up into pieces since its planned out to be a significantly larger one than all the others, lol
> 
> for a bit of context: tommy is coded as cat and ranboo as mellohi. they need anonymous names n those are what i picked simply bc I Thought It Was Neat :]
> 
> also!! plot!! i don't usually have that in my fics so this is new for me LOL.. i usually don't have a plan and just go with the flow but this fic has an outline... thats bananas !
> 
> hope u enjoy smile

“You want me to… what?”

Tommy flexed his hand, feeling the familiar pull from the bandages on his palm. His bottom lip was worried between his teeth as he stared at his boss.

“I want you and your partner on the art mission tomorrow night,” They repeated, one eyebrow cocked, hands steepled just below their chin. Tommy swallowed and broke eye contact to stare at the painting on the wall behind them. _Fuck,_ DreamXD was terrifying.

“I mean- I heard you, big guy, but, I- I guess I just don’t get it. Why me?” Tommy placed his unwrapped hand on his chest, drifting his gaze so that it rested just above DreamXD’s shoulder. It was the closest to eye contact they would get, at least while Tommy was putting up a fight. When they didn’t speak, Tommy continued on. “Like- My whole thing is _murder,_ man, I’m not some kinda petty thief. Are there not any, y’know… _bigger_ cases I could be placed on? It feels kinda like a slight against my skills to just go out and steal some fuckin’ painting.”

After a tense moment in which Tommy seriously debated whether or not this was where he died, DreamXD spoke. “You’re right, Cat, your skills _are_ supreme. There aren’t many in this organization that are on par with that, excluding El Rapids and your own partner.” Tommy frowned on instinct at the mention of El Rapids- Those fuckers always seemed to come up in every conversation he and his boss had that wasn’t a simple case assignment. “That’s exactly why I’m entrusting this mission to you and your partner exclusively. Jacobs didn’t even want the offer.” At that, Tommy snapped back into eye contact. It was uncommon for El Rapids to not try and fight him on cases, and even rarer for him to get handed one second. They liked to fight tooth and nail for these sorts of things.

The steeple was broken by DreamXD making a lazy gesture with their hand towards their chair. Tommy, though reasonably wary, complied. “This case is personal to me. Not only would I like to get the money from selling that painting… I would very much like to spit in the face of the family selling it.” Something flashed in their eyes for only a moment before it was smothered by their usual icy chill. Tommy noticed it anyways. He didn’t get as far as he did by being unobservant. _Wonder how personal this really is. Maybe there’s a reason Jacobs turned down the job._

“I think you and Mellohi are a good team for this mission. While it is true that I would have preferred Jacobs for this-” Tommy scowled once again, “-I’m also able to appreciate the turn of events that is him rejecting the offer.”

Noticing Tommy’s annoyance, DreamXD reached out with one hand to give Tommy what was probably meant to be a reassuring pat on the arm. It had quite the opposite effect, however, only serving to make Tommy more uncomfortable. “I’ve been meaning to put you on a different type of mission for a while now, Cat. I know that you’re comfortable as an assassin and I know that you’re good at what you do, but I also know that you could excel in other fields. Just give it a try, yeah? It’s just one mission.”

“One mission with a partner that I hardly know,” Tommy protested, though it was weak. DreamXD just gave him that awful, wide smile.

“Then get to know him more on this job. I’m trusting you with this, Cat, don’t break that trust for me.”

“...Alright,” Whispered Tommy. DreamXD patted him again before retracting his hand.

“I know it’ll say this in the file, but I want to make sure you understand this, Cat; You are to leave everyone alive. I don’t care what lengths you have to go to to do so. Abandon the painting, get yourselves captured, I don’t care. _Nobody dies tonight._ You hear me?”

“I hear you, big man.”

“Good. You’re dismissed. The case file will be in your room when you get home. Meet with Mellohi on the docks at eleven sharp, got it?”

“The d-” Tommy cut himself off with a heavy sigh. He had already back-talked enough for one night. “Yessir.”

DreamXD waved him out the door. Tommy left it cracked slightly open out of pure spite as he slipped out.

//

Phil greeted him with a smile and a wave when he had entered the house, hanging his coat up on the rack by the front door. Wilbur had given him a half-hearted salute. Techno was nowhere to be seen. In response, Tommy waved back at Phil and thumped Wilbur on the head before retreating off and into his room under the pretense of hiding from his now mildly peeved older brother.

True to DreamXD’s word, there was a blank manilla folder on Tommy’s desk, two pages peeking out slightly from underneath the cover. It stood out rather harshly against the mess of supplies on Tommy’s desk. He was quick to retrieve it and quick to check to make sure that no-one was in or near his room before he opened it.

Once he was sure, he peeled open the folder, spreading the two sheets of office paper out on either side, eyes quickly scanning over the information. He knew he was going to go over it with Ranboo at the docks, but it never hurt to review it more than once- Plus, he had time to kill until dinner, and even more time after that while he waited for everyone to disperse into their individual rooms.

According to the sheet on the left, they were to be retrieving and dropping off a large, 36-inch by 46-inch canvas. The artist was some name Tommy didn’t recognize, as was the painting itself, which was exampled through a few quick photographs on the second sheet. “Thanks, Editor Larry,” Tommy muttered. It was ritual amongst the organization, at that point, to thank their photographer any time they were given a new case file. _He puts in a lot of work, you know, getting us pictures of what we’re looking for._

What he _did_ recognize, however, was the name and numbers provided. The numbers caught his eye first- “Holy shit, three-hundred-fifty for _that?_ It’s fuckin’ ugly, why is that the _base price?”_ \- but the name held it for longer. At first, he paused and rubbed at his eyes, sure that he must have just read it wrong. A glance away from it did not change the words on the paper, however.

“... Its being sold by the Wastaken family…?”

“ _Tommy! Dinner!_ ” Phil’s voice called from downstairs, muffled by the door. Startled, Tommy slammed the folder shut, slipping it under the sheets under his pillow in a hasty attempt to conceal it. “Coming!” He yelled back, heart thumping.

His footsteps thumped a lot more heavily than he would have preferred going down the stairs. Wilbur met him at the bottom and put him into a headlock, dragging him to the kitchen table, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. “I’m gonna make you regret flicking me, Tommy Innit,” He cooed, tapping one long nail against Tommy’s shoulder.

“I don’t regret anything, _Wilbur_ ,” Tommy spat back playfully, ducking under Wilbur’s arm so that he was behind him. He then proceeded to kick Wilbur in the calf and sprint to the table, where he attached himself to Philza’s side, knowing that Wilbur wouldn’t go after him and risk hitting Phil.

“Cheap move!” Wilbur said. Tommy just laughed and burrowed further under Phil’s arm.

“Mate… I’m tryin’ to eat, can you not?”

“Not an option, Philza Minecraft, should I leave your hold, I will surely die.”

Phil gave him A Look that immediately made Tommy think _Oh, fuck, I’m screwed._

“Then perish.”

With a shriek, Tommy was pushed to the ground, where Wilbur quickly put a foot on his chest and smacked him on the nose with a wooden spoon. “Naughty children get obliterated,” He said cheerfully, putting pressure on Tommy’s ribs. Tommy, in response, went limp.

“Did you fucking die, child?” Wilbur asked, lessening the pressure, beginning to lean down to look his younger brother in the eye. Tommy suddenly grinned and shot upright, startling Wilbur into stumbling away, giving Tommy a chance to slide into place at the table.

“He got your ass, Wilbur,” Chirped Phil, “Go get the food. Made macaroni. Didn’t feel like standing up for long enough to make anything else.”

“Finally admitting to being old, Philza?”

Phil just smiled and leaned back in his chair. It was peacefully quiet for a few moments, save for Wilbur clambering around in the kitchen, until a bowl was slid in front of Tommy. “Here you go, small one,” The brunette announced, giving Phil his bowl with a lot more grace before sitting down with his own across from Tommy. Tommy gave him a kick in the calf in reply before beginning to eat.

Before long, Phil and Wilbur dissolved into mindless chatter about their days. Tommy only caught the tail end of Wilbur talking about a geography test he had taken before he delved into his own thoughts; Specifically, plans for how he and his partner would be carrying out their latest mission. It would be difficult as fuck to try and come up with something without equally consulting Ranboo, but he could at least theorize, right…?

Oh. Wait. He had a phone. Duh.

**wife haver — > bitch boy**

_wife haver: ranboob do you have a Plan yet_

_bitch boy: not in the slightest no_  
_bitch boy: you seem like the kind of guy who likes being in charge so i just figured id let you take the lead on this one chief_

_wife haver: cant argue that one_  
_wife haver: it is unfortunate though, i dont have much of an idea on what we’re gonna do either_

_bitch boy: uhhh_  
_bitch boy: let’s just go step by step? how are we getting in?_

_wife haver: hmmm_  
_wife haver: our options r break-in, disguise, or brute force from the hands_  
_wife haver: personally i think disguise or break-in will be the better options since we have to not Do The Thing_

_bitch boy: The Thing?_

_wife haver: yk_  
_wife haver: :knife:_  
_wife haver: cant say the word bc its compromising_

_bitch boy: OHHHH_  
_bitch boy: yeah i gotchu_

_wife haver: okay cool_

**_wife haver has deleted 7 messages._ **

_wife haver: n e ways. thoughts_

_bitch boy: personally im a big fan of disguises just bc It Would Be Funny but i dont think thats a very good reason for such an important choice_

_wife haver: ranboo u underestimate me_  
_wife haver: u forget that i, too, am a teenage boy_

_bitch boy: OH TRUE_  
_bitch boy: disguises, then?_

_wife haver: yess_  
_wife haver: how r we gonna get good enough ones tho_

_bitch boy: well i unironically wear suits quite often so i think im good_  
_bitch boy: this actually sounds more like a you problem_

_wife haver: you fucking What_

_bitch boy: lol_

_wife haver: fuck you_  
_wife haver: i can ask my brother i think he can help_

_bitch boy: how so_

_wife haver: he can like. idk hes fashionable i htink_  
_wife haver: if i bring more money than you than we can balance out shut the fuck up boob boy_

_bitch boy: i will k1ll you before you can even blink call me that again see what happens_

_wife haver: DAMN OK SHAWTY_

_bitch boy: but yeah get dressed up real nice bring good amounts of money and we can get in and take it from there_  
_bitch boy: i gtg tho im having dinner with a_  
_bitch boy: a friend???_  
_bitch boy: yeah i think friend works_

_wife haver: LOL same see u then rantitty_

_bitch boy: when i see you i WILL bite you_

_wife haver: im a minor_

With that, Tommy shut his phone off and slipped it between his thighs, ignoring the way the screen lit up with a new notification, and began to speak, interrupting whatever conversation was already going on.

“Hey, Wilbur,” He began, catching his brother’s attention, “Can you help me get dressed up for something tonight?”

Confused, Wilbur shifted in his seat, making sure he was facing Tommy, lips slightly pursed, eyebrows slightly narrowed. “Get you… dressed up? Tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, can you do it or not?”

“I heard you, I just- Don’t get why. But, yeah, I’ll do it-” Tommy grinned, “-So long as you tell me what it’s for.” When Tommy opened his mouth to protest, Wilbur continued, “You don’t have to tell me right now, but you do before I help. Sometime between now and then. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tommy groaned. He then began to shovel slightly cold macaroni into his mouth, signaling the end of the conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe this plot is inspired by an episode of a tv show maybe its not you don't know me (just the art theft part... if u can figure it out mad applause but its very detached from it so far DMSDJKFS)
> 
> holds out my hand put the kudos in the bag

**Author's Note:**

> ayo if u like this u should drop a kudos aha (does the chin rub thing) maybe even a comment (bites lip)
> 
> pls thats so fuckin stupisdisdfjksdhkfsjhfs


End file.
